


Build me your bridges

by withoutmaps



Category: Bandom, Panic At The Disco, The Academy Is...
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-05-26
Updated: 2008-05-26
Packaged: 2017-10-22 03:37:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/233320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/withoutmaps/pseuds/withoutmaps
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Dedicated to <a href="http://keeplistening.livejournal.com/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://keeplistening.livejournal.com/"><b>keeplistening</b></a> for never failing to be awesome. Love you, Liat. ♥♥ Also, huge thanks to <a href="http://self-sustaining.livejournal.com/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://self-sustaining.livejournal.com/"><b>self_sustaining</b></a>, <a href="http://imntsaying.livejournal.com/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://imntsaying.livejournal.com/"><b>imntsaying</b></a> and <a href="http://natacup82.livejournal.com/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://natacup82.livejournal.com/"><b>natacup82</b></a> for the betas and last minute look-overs.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Build me your bridges

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to [](http://keeplistening.livejournal.com/profile)[**keeplistening**](http://keeplistening.livejournal.com/) for never failing to be awesome. Love you, Liat. ♥♥ Also, huge thanks to [](http://self-sustaining.livejournal.com/profile)[**self_sustaining**](http://self-sustaining.livejournal.com/), [](http://imntsaying.livejournal.com/profile)[**imntsaying**](http://imntsaying.livejournal.com/) and [](http://natacup82.livejournal.com/profile)[**natacup82**](http://natacup82.livejournal.com/) for the betas and last minute look-overs.

Spencer doesn't let Jon go down on her the first time they meet and well, it's not really the best first impression he's ever made. Sliding his hand up her bare thigh, under her fucking skirt, and he's lucky she didn't knee him in the balls, seriously.

It's not like he doesn't regret it when he sobers up, but then there's a lot of things Jon regrets. Drinking so much is probably first. Not putting up a huge fight when Tom pushed him into his bunk, climbed in after, is a pretty close second. So really. Feeling Spencer up is closer to the end of the list.

Also. There's the part where he totally forgot about it. Until he runs into her two days later, wearing pants this time, thank god, and she gives him a seriously nasty look and turns very slightly pink.

"Jon Walker," Brendon croons, looping an arm around Jon's neck. Brendon's sucking on a tootsie roll pop, his tongue bright blue when he sticks it out at Ryan.

"Hey," Jon says and he glances at Spencer one last time before letting Brendon tug him away, saying, "Jon Walker, I want to show you this thing."

Jon listens to Brendon talking a mile a minute, but he can't help looking back, noticing the way Ryan's got his fingers tangled around Spencer's, his head ducked close to hers. They look right, natural, together and Jon tries to push them out of his mind, tries to focus on whatever the fuck Brendon is talking about.

  
  


The third time he runs into Spencer, and he's not counting because Jon's pretty sure that would be weird, she's wearing that skirt again. Although, it's probably not the same one; it's been a while since Jon's been around any girls that aren't looking to get laid by someone almost-famous, but the ones he's used to hanging out with usually have more than one and he thinks Spencer's probably that kind of girl.

She's all long legs and bare skin and Jon's not drunk or high, but he'd still love to go down on her.

Spencer tucks a piece of hair behind her ear and crosses her arms over her chest, looks at him like she can read his mind. She's not giving him an inch and Jon likes it, feels a thrill go through him when she tilts her hips.

"Brendon wants you to come hang out," she says, all sass as her eyes meet his briefly before flitting away.

"Uh," Jon replies, scratching the back of his neck. He's hung out with Brendon almost constantly for the past two days. Any time Jon's had a moment free Brendon's been right there at his elbow, huge smile and dorky glasses and yeah, Jon doesn't mind watching Brendon get progressively drunker, his giggle high and his hands wandering. Brendon is a friendly drunk, open and unassuming, and Jon can never help the smile that slips onto his face when he sees Brendon climbing up the bus stairs.

There are times, though, when Jon wishes Brendon were Spencer, her mouth pressed open and warm against his shoulder, the thin material of his t-shirt.

Spencer raises an eyebrow and Jon thinks he may have forgotten the question.

"You coming?" Spencer asks and Jon's hoping that the hopeful lilt in her voice isn't just wishful thinking on his part.

"I, uh. Actually I have to do this thing for Bill. But. I'll come by later, yeah?" Spencer shrugs and Jon smiles. Tom shouts his name, waves, and Jon brushes past her deliberately, their bare skin brushing.

  
  


"You know it's actually kind of cold out, right?" Jon asks the next time he sees her. Spencer's sitting on the top of a picnic table outside the venue texting. She's not wearing a skirt this time, but some of those Victoria Secret type sweats. The ones that go mid-calf and only serve to confuse Jon. She looks pretty though, hair drifting in the breeze and hands covered by the ends of her hoodie.

She gives him a tiny smile, rolls her eyes, and makes a noise that sounds remarkably like a scoff.

Jon climbs up next to her, not touching, but close, and says, "Who're you texting?"

One quick glance at him, through her bangs and Jon's not sure how he didn't notice how blue her eyes were before this, and then she shrugs, looks back down at the phone in her hands. Her voice is quiet when she says, "Friend from home."

He doesn't push and they sit there, silent, for a few minutes, until Spencer says, "That's not how you introduce yourself to all the girls, is it? Like. Your line?"

She's not looking at him and Jon isn't really sure how to respond; all the things he can think of are immensely stupid or just wrong. Some are both.

Finally, he shrugs, says, "No. Never tried it before actually." Spencer really does scoff this time and Jon's pretty sure he can _hear_ her rolling her eyes.

"Wow," she says and fuck, her voice is amazing. Dry and full of just enough annoyance that Jon gets it when she continues, says, "Guess that makes me special."

He was expecting her to be mad, all thinly veiled anger, and Jon's surprised that she's even speaking to him. He's probably most surprised by her voice: dry and so fucking sarcastic. Jon can't help but laugh.

"Yeah," he says when the laughter is gone and they lapse back into silence, only the low soundtrack of Spencer's fingers moving over the keys and Brendon yelling in the background.

It's getting closer and Jon's not surprised when Brendon appears before them, face flushed from the cold, the exercise.

"Spencer, oh my god," Brendon pants, puts his hands on his knees and tries to catch his breath. Jon watches the way she looks up at him, the affectionate quirk to her mouth, and feels almost jealous. He's seen them draped together, seen Spencer's head pillowed on Brendon's chest, his fingers moving lightly through her hair. Jon knows there's nothing going on. Probably anyway.

He recognizes the familiar looks and touches - _a band thing_ , Tom always tells him.

Jon doesn't particularly believe it when Tom says it, not when he's seen the way Bill's touches linger on Tom's skin, the way Bill looks and Tom looks back. Especially because Jon's actually been in a band. With his best friends and still. He doesn't remember touching them the way Ryan touches Spencer, looking at them the way Brendon looks at Spencer.

Jon doesn't remember talking about his band members with the same tone Tom uses when he talks about Bill.

He shakes his head and tries to focus on Brendon's words, his happy chatter about Ryan being a _fucking cheater, Spence, a goddamn cheater_.

Brendon yelps, whatever he and Ryan were playing with hitting him in the side, and then he's pressed up against Spencer, the lines of his body squished awkward against wood and Spencer. He says, "Help me, Spence. You have to save me," in the most earnest voice Jon has ever heard.

Spencer laughs, light and pleased, and Jon tries not to move when she presses a hand to his knee, uses it to push herself off the tabletop.

"Thank you, Jon Walker, for this brave sacrifice," Brendon says, seriously. Jon laughs and Spencer rolls her eyes, tugs at his hand. She says, "Come on, I know where Ryan keeps his stash of gummi worms."

Brendon's eyes go wide and Jon watches them go.

  
  


"You've been hanging out with the kids a lot lately," Tom says, looping a guitar cord around his arm. The _kids_ are sitting in the back of the arena, Ryan smacking at Brendon as he squirms while Spencer watches, laughing. Brent’s sitting a little apart, not far, just. Not together. Jon remembers when he first heard of them, these kids who were the next big thing, Pete Wentz's kids.

He makes a noncommittal sound and goes back to tuning Sisky's guitar.

Jon knows Tom doesn't mind them, that he thinks Spencer's hot and the little ones sort of cute, but then. They _are_ young and Jon remembers being that age; it wasn't all that long ago and he remembers being that young and nowhere near as famous.

Tom's eyes are on him and Jon knows he's not convinced, not put off. He doesn't bring it up until later, though, until Brendon is draped warm and pliant across Jon, the drink in his hand nearly finished.

"Come on, I'll help you with that," Tom says and Jon wishes he were maybe a little more drunk. This might be easier, getting called out by his best friend about a band, a _girl_ , that both of them barely know. Tom helps him lift Brendon, says something quiet to Bill before they're stumbling rough and uncoordinated down the stairs.

Tom's hands are gentle on Brendon's hip, back, and he tosses tired jokes back and forth with him as they pick their way across the parking lot. Brendon smiles at Jon and somehow he has one of his hands tucked in Jon's pocket, his body warm against Jon's side.

"So," Tom finally says when they've dropped Brendon off safe and sound, when they're halfway back to the bus. "Spencer."

"What about her?" He's got his hands shoved deep into his pockets and Jon doesn't want to do this. He hasn't figured it out himself and he really, really doesn't want to do this like this. Tom bumps his shoulder and Jon smiles, rolls his eyes even though he know Tom can't see. Finally, he says, "I don't know, man."

"She let you go down on her yet?" Tom asks after a second and Jon coughs, shoves Tom hard when he recovers. Tom's "guess that's a no" is quiet and he's too far away now to punch. Jon glares at him, promises revenge.

They're at the bus before Tom can reply, his eyes dancing in the dim light. Jon shoves past him and takes the first drink he’s offered. Butcher’s passed out nearly naked on the couch and Jon makes a face as he passes, pushes at him lightly with his fingertips. Butcher just grumbles, doesn't move.

Tom gives him a look and Jon shrugs, takes a long drink of the beer in his hand. Not the greatest, but it will do.

He doesn't stop drinking until the bus is moving, humming softly beneath his feet, and this time when Tom says, "Hey, you can bunk with me," Jon catches the look Bill sends them and manages to smile and say no, say, "Mm, I think the floor is calling my name."

  
  


Spencer finds him the next day, her smile almost sympathetic. But then she says, "Wow, you look like shit," and Jon just glares at her. It's the first time in the last day he's seen her without Ryan or Brendon or Brent anywhere nearby. Usually one of them is following her around, Ryan barely touching her, but still close enough, while Brendon just clings and Brent hovers a little farther away.

They have the weirdest band dynamic ever, Jon thinks.

He grunts at her and her responding smile is sweet, gorgeous. She looks down at her toes, brushes the hair out of her face, and finally says, "Here, Brendon got you this."

Sweet, sweet coffee and Jon wants to kiss her. Fuck, he'd kiss Brendon too. He's feeling barely human. Sisky looks about the same which means Jon will be pulling double duty today, tuning and running through soundcheck. Fuck, he thinks, and then he does kiss her.

Jon presses a hand to her cheek, presses his lips, dry and chaste, against the other. He feels her go stiff, but he doesn't really care all that much. She brought him coffee, _coffee_ , and Jon doesn't know how else to respond to that. It might not be a gesture, and really it probably isn't, but it's thoughtful at least.

Spencer's eyes are closed when he steps back and they open slowly, her face blushing pink. She looks down, lets her hair fall into her eyes, and Jon wants to tuck that piece back. He just says, "Thanks. Really," and he wants to touch her again, but forces himself not to.

  
  


Jon watches the show from side stage that night. Pressed back against the wall so none of them can see him and he smiles when Brendon does see, when Brendon smiles at him huge and bright and winks. He sneaks off before they finish up the last song, before Spencer's had a chance to see him too.

He's double-checking Sisky's bass when Ryan finds him, still gross from the show. He just stalks right up into his face and Jon's always thought Ryan was pretty much a stick; he'd probably blow over in a rough wind.

Never did Jon think he'd ever be afraid of him.

Ryan hisses, "If you hurt her, they'll never find your body," and Jon puts his hands up, pick caught between his thumb and forefinger. Ryan is sort of like a Chihuahua, Tom's always said, but Jon can see the Pit Bull in him now, his tiny body nearly vibrating as he backs Jon into an amp.

"Hey," Jon says and he can feel everybody watching them, waiting for whatever Jon's going to do. He lowers his voice, says, "I'm. I won't. Not on purpose."

Ryan's eyes narrow and he says, "Not ever," before stalking off.

"Wow," Bill says into the silence. "Wouldn't want to get on little Ross' bad side."

Jon glares at him, sees Tom put a hand on Bill's hip before he goes back to Sisky’s bass. Five minutes to show and Jon thinks one of the strings is maybe a little off. He's trying to fix it when Tom appears at his side.

"Sisky just puked again," he says and Jon laughs, shakes his head. Sisky's usually a pro, the best out of all of them. He grew up on this shit and Jon doesn't feel as bad about his hangover this morning if Sisky is still fucked. Tom rubs a hand through his hair, nudges Jon with his elbow.

He doesn’t say anything, but Jon nods in response; he knows.

  
  


Jon always watches the Academy set from the wings, just in case, and he notices her the second she steps up into the shadows. Her hair is pulled up into a sloppy ponytail, her arms crossed. She meets his eyes for a second before looking away, back at the show.

While Jon watches Brendon steps up behind her, one arm wrapped around her waist, his chin tipped against his shoulder. He looks wrecked, happy and completely wrecked.

He smiles and sketches a wave at Jon and of course, that’s when Sisky fucks up his bass, makes his stupid scrunchy face at Jon while shrugging. Jon's working on getting it fixed, absently listening to Bill's canned speech, when they slip away. They're gone when he looks up.

Brendon doesn't stop by the Academy bus that night. He just texts Jon a short message about being tired, hanging with his crew tonight. Jon tells Brendon it's cool, tells himself he's not disappointed.

  
  


When Brendon stumbles past Jon the next morning with his sunglasses on and his hoodie up Jon thinks he should maybe be worried. But Brendon smiles tiredly at him as he lets Zack push him back onto the bus.

Jon picks up some coffee later, tries to ignore the urge to text Brendon. He doesn't have Spencer's number or he'd maybe text her too. See if they want something. In the end, he settles for texting Tom, teasing him with the newest Starbucks flavor. Tom texts back something short and nasty, filled with typos, and Jon's laughing when he orders.

When Jon gets back to the venue the kids are soundchecking, Brendon sitting at the very edge of the stage cradling Brent's bass. Jon doesn't see Brent, not in the pit or off to the side. Zack is there, Spencer and Ryan sharing a quiet conversation over her kit.

Brendon barely smiles when he notices Jon. It's like his heart's not in it and Jon slows, stops in front of him. He doesn't say anything, just brushes his fingers barely there over Brendon's knee.

"Well, he's not fucking here." Spencer says, tone nasty, and Jon's knows he wasn't supposed to hear. She glares at him when their eyes meet and Brendon won't look up from his lap. They're all tense and it has to be because of Brent. Jon knows they won’t tell him, though; he's an outsider.

"Hey," he says, voice low. Brendon doesn't actually look up, but Jon knows he's listening. "You like hazelnut?"

Brendon nods and Jon passes him his cup, still nearly full.

"Thank you, Jon Walker," Brendon says, solemnly. Jon huffs and the smile he gets in response is tiny, but real.

"Brendon," Spencer says and her tone isn't as sharp, but it's still got bite. Enough that the smile drops off Brendon's face. He hands the cup back and Jon wants to tell him to keep it, he doesn't need it, but Brendon is already climbing to his feet, saying, "Yeah, yeah. Chill, Spencer."

He makes a face at Jon before turning back for good and Jon watches as Spencer counts them off, Brendon bouncing along to the beat.

They don't seem like they're even missing much between the three of them. Brendon shoves his face into Ryan's and Ryan swats absently at him, missing a few chords. There is an empty spot on the stage, sure, the place where Brent should be. But when they're playing it's just Brendon and Ryan and Spencer and Jon stays to watch. Just for a couple minutes.

He watches until they finish the first song and then he goes to find Tom, see if Sisky's fixed his bass.

  
  


That night after the show, no drinking, they’ve got a long day of driving ahead of them, Jon doesn't mean to, but he lets Tom shove him into the tiny bathroom, lets him shove him back against the sink and jerk him off.

They don't kiss, because it's Tom and that's not what this about, and Jon comes thinking about Spencer’s fingers and Brendon's mouth.

"Fuck," he breathes and he doesn't look at Tom, does his fly with clumsy fingers before pushing past him. Jon tries to focus on making it look like nothing happened, just the same old shit. He brushes past Carden in the hallway and climbs over Sisky who’s laying in the doorway to the lounge. Jon tucks his sleeping bag into a corner and while everyone is watching late night reruns, he falls asleep trying not to think.

  
  


Brendon's still subdued in the morning, the bags under his eyes darker than the day before.

"Hey," Jon says, squatting next to him. Brendon's curled up outside the dressing room, arms wrapped around his knees, and Jon thought he was sleeping for a minute. But then Brendon breathed in a deep shuddering breath and his eyes fluttered open.

"Hi," Brendon says and Jon's not sure what he's thinking when he brushes a hand through Brendon's hair. The movement earns him a tired sigh and an almost-smile.

"You sleeping much?" Jon asks after a moment. Brendon's eyes have closed again already, but Jon know he's not going to fall asleep. His body is too tense, too much shit in his head; Jon's been there. Brendon just shrugs in response and Jon opens his mouth to say something else when Spencer opens the dressing room door. Jon can see Ryan right behind her, his face worried.

"Jesus Christ," Spencer says and she sounds more worried, desperate, than angry.

Brendon turns his head and Jon notices the way he visibly relaxes, thinks he's probably smiling too, his voice soft when he says, "Just us. Hey, Spence. Ryan."

Ryan rolls his eyes, but his tone is fond when he says, "Come on, soundcheck."

Brendon glances back at Jon for a second before saying, "Brent?"

Spencer shrugs and she won't meet Jon's eyes, just says, "Zack went to find him, come on."

Jon stands with Brendon, lets Brendon lean on him for a second before pushing him gently away. He can feel both Spencer and Ryan watching them, but he has no idea what they're thinking.

"You'd play bass for us, wouldn't you?" Brendon asks, quietly, before he goes, and Jon smiles because he thinks that's what he's supposed to do, treat it like a joke.

"Yeah, sure," he says and chalks it up to sleep deprivation.

  
  


When Jon sees them next it’s been a few days, but they're all there. Brent doesn't look any different, nothing that Jon can pick out anyway. He watches part of their set and doesn't move when Spencer notices him. When she plays half a song with her eyes on him. She finally looks away when Brendon and Ryan go back to play at her, their heads bent together over their guitars.

"Jon Walker," Brendon says after the show and he's not subdued now, his smile wide and his eyes bright. "Did you see me?" he asks and Jon nods, lets Brendon wrap him up in one of his full body hugs.

"I saw you," he says into Brendon's neck. Brendon presses closer and Jon counts to five before pushing him away.

"You coming over?" Jon asks and Brendon looks back at Spencer, Ryan. They both look supremely pleased, the show better than they thought it would be. But Brendon just shrugs, says, "I think I'm gonna chill. Ryan wants to show me some lyrics."

Jon nods and says, "Yeah, sure. Good show."

They all smile at him and Brendon says, "Hey, you could-" but Sisky is calling for him and there's still something off with his bass.

  
  


Brendon's yawning when Jon pushes the paper cup into his hands. White chocolate mocha and he got something sweet because he wasn't sure what Brendon liked. He couldn't see getting Brendon a latte and Jon firmly believes that frappacinos are all that is wrong with coffee today.

"My hero," Brendon says, and then, "Spencer and Ryan are going to kill you." He sounds a lot more pleased about that than Jon thinks he should be. But he's smiling so Jon doesn't mind too much.

"Where is Spencer?" Jon asks, still used to seeing them mostly together. Brendon just shrugs, though, too focused on taking a careful sip from the cup in his hands.

"Probably with Ryan," Brendon says eventually. And yeah, Jon had sort of figured that much. He raises an eyebrow and Brendon beams at him, says, "You are my very favorite. I shall take you to Spencer."

Jon doesn't actually want to be taken to Spencer. He could say, in fact, that it was just idle curiosity that had him asking. It wasn't, but Jon's pretty sure Brendon doesn't know that. Until Brendon says, "She was looking for you earlier. Wouldn't tell me why," and even though Jon can hear the slight pout in his voice, knows how Brendon hates to be left out of anything, there’s a glint of something else in his eyes, his smile.

"Well, let's go find her then," Jon says and Brendon takes another sip of coffee.

"She’s going to take my coffee away."

Jon laughs and Brendon sighs, says, "Okay."

Spencer's curled up on the couch in their dressing room, Brent across the room and both of them on their cell phones, not talking to each other. Each of them looks up when Jon follows Brendon in, but Brent goes right back to his phone while Spencer sits up, makes room for them next to her.

"Jon gave you coffee," Spencer says and her voice is dry, but she sounds amused. Brendon nods, curling into her side and holding the cup out. She takes a drink and Jon watches her eyes blink shut for one, two, three seconds. "Oh good. Sugar _and_ caffeine."

Brendon smiles and Jon feels inexplicably like an idiot.

"Hot chocolate next time?" he asks and Spencer shrugs. Brendon's practically cooing at the cup and Jon isn't sure what to say, except. "Brendon said-"

Spencer cuts him off with a look, her eyes sliding toward Brent.

  
  


"It is what it is," Spencer says a few minutes later, the two of them sitting at the edge of the stage as the venue crew works behind them. "Brendon can play the parts, but-"

"He's gotta play guitar too," Jon finishes and he understands. Standing on the side of the stage during the Academy's set, Jon's always just in case. In case Sisky screws something up, in case the sound isn't working. In case of anything.

Here, now, he’s pretty sure they're asking him to be just in case for them too.

But then Jon's not sure who's asking exactly. Brendon hadn't known and Jon thinks Ryan probably does, but there's always the possibility that he doesn't.

"It's not. There's nothing set in stone or anything. Just."

"Just in case," Jon says and he sounds weary even to himself. Spencer sort of flinches and then they can hear Brendon, screeching as he careens around a corner, Ryan right behind him.

Jon's not sure how Spencer does it. Ryan is mostly well-composed and often tucked deep inside himself, but there are times. Times when he'll give into Brendon's incessant pleading and tugging. Times when he lets go a little.

And well. Brendon is Brendon. Always barely contained energy, pulsing just below the skin it seems. Sometimes, Jon knows, it’s not so well contained.

"Jon. Help me, Jon," Brendon pants, pushing into Jon's space, curling around him. Jon sees the look Spencer shoots them, tinged with annoyance maybe, but then he hasn't gotten very good at reading her over the last month; he could be wrong. It doesn't seem to even matter then because the look is gone, covered up with something much more guarded before Jon can blink.

"You guys ready for soundcheck?" Ryan asks, completely out of breath, leaning his head against Spencer's side.

For a second Jon feels like he belongs. But then Brent steps into the pit and Brendon and Ryan both straighten up, swallow their laughter and their smiles.

"Ready?" Brent asks and Jon sees the look the three of them share. They all nod and Jon's about to leave, find something to do far away from the kids of Panic at the Disco, but Spencer's fingers close around his wrist and she says, "Think about it. Please."

  
  


Jon spends a couple weeks tagging after Tom, taking pictures and messing around with Sisky's bass. He resolutely avoids Brendon and Spencer, telling himself that he's _not avoiding them, really_ because he nods and waves when he sees them.

He just doesn't go out of his way to talk to them.

It's not as if they're searching him out either. Spencer sends him guarded looks, something maybe a little bit hopeful but mostly just closed off, and every once in a while, Brendon will text him, usually something completely inconsequential but enough to make Jon smile.

They're in this sort of holding pattern and Jon can't stop thinking about it. Spencer's almost proposition and then her quiet _think about it_.

He tells Tom when they're drunk, when Tom's crowded him into the tiny bathroom. Tom's hand is down his pants and Jon's not sure how he ended up here. He says, "Fuck, Tom," and presses his forehead to Tom's shoulder.

He says, "Panic might need a new bassist soon," and Tom goes still.

Jon's not really hard, not yet, but he's glad when Tom pulls his hand free. Even when he says, "Christ, Jon," and then a beat and a half later, "I'm sorry," Jon is almost glad.

He breathes in, out, and Tom says it again, _Christ_ , and then _fuck, this is a mess_.

"You should," he continues. In and then back out, Jon thinks, breathing out in a hard puff of air that presses warm against Tom's shirt.

"Yeah?" Jon asks after a moment. He's still not sure and this, Tom and his band, are a major part of that decision.

"Fuck, dude. Be in a band again? You even have to ask?" Jon laughs, a quick huff of a laugh because yeah. A band.

There's a knock at the door, two fast knocks that make Tom take two tiny steps away and Jon say, "Just a second."

Before he opens the door, Tom says, "Hey, you can have my bunk tonight. Don’t think I’ll need it," and then, much more seriously, "You should do it, man. It'll be good."

  
  


Jon's drunk the last night of tour, after the show, and really, so is everybody else, laughing and shouting and drinking. Tom is just as drunk, pressed warm against his side, and Jon's not even sure how much he's had by the time the kids show up.

Brent's not with them, just Spencer, Ryan, and Brendon, and Jon never thought that he'd see Ryan at one of these. He knows, everybody knows, about his dad and Ryan's attempt at straight edge. But here he is and Jon can't manage to free himself from the couch, Tom suddenly a suffocating pressure pressed right up next to him.

Jon wants to talk to them, wants desperately to touch, but Tom is talking into his shoulder, mumbling something about Chicago and home, something Jon can't focus on because Brendon and Spencer are winding their way closer to him, Brendon's fingers wrapped around Spencer's.

He can't get away from how natural they look, Spencer leaning into Brendon and Brendon curling protective and needy around her.

"Jon Walker," Brendon says and Jon thinks he'll never get tired of hearing Brendon say his name. Or seeing Spencer smile like that.

"Hi," he says and shoves futilely at Tom to get him to move, to make some space.

"Beer," Tom says, suddenly clear. "The babies need beer."

Spencer and Brendon actually giggle and for some reason it's _Jon_ who flushes at the stupid almost-nickname.

"Yes," Brendon agrees, looking at Spencer like he's asking permission.

"Course," Spencer says and Tom levers himself up off the couch, off to find them something to drink. Spencer drops into the space he left and doesn't complain too much when Brendon climbs into her lap. Weird, weird, weird dynamic, Jon thinks.

And when Brendon shifts Jon notices that Spencer's wearing that skirt again. Not even a different one this time, but that one. The one he'd slid his hand up under, the one she was wearing when Jon had said, "You have amazing legs. I think I should go down on you."

His face flushes at the memory and Jon finishes his beer in one swallow.

Tom brings back drinks, enough for Jon too, and then he disappears, presumably looking for Bill. Jon watches him go, tracks his progress through the bus, and when he turns back Brendon's face is tucked into Spencer's neck, his body twisted awkwardly in her lap, and she's laughing at whatever he's mumbling.

"Hey, Spence," Jon says and he catches her mid-laugh, her eyes shining. He doesn't think about it, about Tom or Bill or the band, just leans forward and kisses her. She goes still for a second and then she's relaxing, twisting toward him.

"Hey," Brendon says and Jon swipes his tongue once along her lower lip and pulls away. Spencer opens her eyes slowly and god, they're so fucking blue.

Brendon says, "Man, fuck you guys," and he's pouting, his bottom lip stuck out outrageously far. Spencer just laughs, says, voice quiet, "Shut up."

Her fingers curl into Brendon's side and Jon can tell it's a possessive move when he curls closer.

"Maybe I'll let you go down on me too," Spencer says, still talking softly, just for the two of them, and Brendon's eyes go wide as he coughs, surprised. Jon smiles and Spencer just lifts an eyebrow when his hand slides up her thigh.

"Dude," Brendon says, tucking his face back into Spencer's neck.

Only mostly kidding, Jon murmurs, “Only if I can watch,” and slides his hand up higher, until he can feel the warmth of Brendon’s side through his t-shirt as well as the smooth heat of Spencer’s skin.

“Of course,” Spencer replies easily.


End file.
